


Belief

by prettyaveragewhiteshark



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: and i'm completely ignoring whatever information came out of the promo, but that's it, but we can still call it that, cause that's not the point, lena and kara interact, lena in jail, this is before the luthors episode aired, which is why i didn't tag supercorp, with some hand touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark
Summary: Lena has been thrown into jail as suspect number one when her mother escapes jail. She tries to hold onto hope that her name will be cleared, but as the days pass, it becomes more and more obvious that no one would ever believe in the innocence of a Luthor.





	

Day one she’s interrupted in her office when three policemen barge through the door, tailed quickly by Jess. They show her a warrant for arrest, tell her that she’s a suspect in her mother’s escape. This is news. The cuffs close around her wrists and she tells Jess not to give the press any information until she can talk to her lawyer. The police have beat the media to her; when they walk her outside the sidewalks are empty and a single police car waits, lights off, no siren. Small mercies. 

The ride is quiet. She can see the driver glancing at her nervously in the rear-view mirror. It’s not the first time she’s seen a look like that in someone’s eyes. She is a Luthor, after all. Living up to the family name now, sitting in handcuffs. She thinks of her mother, hauled away in glaring red and blue lights just a few days ago. She thinks of Lex. Shame fills her chest, shame and rage and hurt. Of course she’d be the prime suspect, belonging to a family like this. Of course she was a criminal. 

Her lawyer speaks in hushed tones over the receiver. She tries to listen calmly. A no-bail order. She’s stuck here until he can push a plea deal or get the order overturned and post bail for her. Just hang tight, he tells her. He needs to get a handle on her case, on the evidence against her. He’ll be in touch. 

She is stoic, obedient, squatting naked and coughing in front of two guards, pulling on the blue and white uniform without complaint. It’s better than orange, the color of Lex’s jumpsuit. Orange sounded like his seething hatred, it looked like his screaming face as he pounded the glass separating the visiting booth, as he swore to kill her even when the guards put him on the ground, tazing him into unconsciousness. Blue and white is better. 

She keeps her head down, but she still sees the glances of other inmates, hears their low whispers and murmuring after she’s already gone past. She didn’t intend to speak to anyone, to make herself familiar, but it seems they already know who she is. And of course they do. How could she have hoped otherwise? Luthor was and always would be one of the biggest names in the crime world. No amount of backpedaling and international philanthropy would change that. 

She is shown into her cell. Her cellmate is curled up on her bed, facing the wall. She doesn’t stir as Lena is shown where to put her things, told what the schedule will be the next morning. Recreation time just ended. Dinner was an hour ago. She’ll be here until first call for personal hygiene and breakfast. The bars slide shut behind her and are locked. The footsteps of the guard fade away.

Lena gets into bed. She isn’t tired; she doesn’t remember what the sensation feels like. She’s another Luthor in jail, holding up the legacy of the name. Maybe her mother would be proud of her this time. Maybe Lex wouldn’t want to kill her now that his baby sister had finally followed in the family footsteps. 

She doesn’t cry. It’s only the first day. She’d have a meeting with her lawyer before the week was out. She’d get a court hearing, prove her innocence. But to whom? She tried to ignore the sinking thoughts, but her mind was insistent. No one would even bother to discover whether or not she’d helped her own mother escape, the same woman whom she’d jailed only days ago. She was a Luthor, and, by association, she was a criminal. It was only a matter of time before she’d shown her true colors, they’d say. And the media would be no help either. There’d never been any love lost between the Luthors and the press as a whole. She’d be crucified before the whole story broke. 

She doesn’t cry. But she doesn’t sleep either.

 

* * *

 

Day six is the worst so far. She is finally able to sit with her lawyer, but the moment he steps into the room she knows the news isn’t good. He explains to her in detail the charges against her. She is an accomplice to prison break, and murder in the first degree. Three guards were killed the night Lillian escaped. Lena feels sick. 

The evidence is worse. They have a video feed showing someone who looks almost exactly like Lena accompanying Lillian out of the prison, they have fingerprints, they have motive, they have a will and testimony signed by Lena declaring that if she died in the prison break she wanted her funds to go to her mother. 

Lena is shocked. She has been framed, and expertly. She is silent, her mind spinning nauseatingly. She holds her head in her hands. Her lawyer is quiet for a moment, then he clears his throat, clasping his hands, leaning a little closer to her and speaking in a quiet voice.

I need to know, he says. Did you do it? If you did, tell me, and we can work a plea bargain. I just need the truth. 

She snaps then, slamming her fists on the table, rising to her feet, leaning towards him. The cuffs bite into her skin.

I didn’t do it, she hisses. She’s in a rage. Years of my life, a hundred sleepless nights to build L Corp, bringing it back from the ashes of the Luthor legacy, and you think I’d throw it all away? And for what? To free the monster that is my mother? The woman I personally put in prison? You think I would do that?   
The guard is shouting her down. Relax, inmate, or this visit is over. She seethes, her hands shaking, but she sits again. She twines her fingers together to steady herself.

I didn’t do it. 

Alright, he says. You didn’t do it. 

Her ears are ringing as she’s taken back to her cell. The earth feels unsteady beneath her feet. She sits on her bed, her arms limp as the guard removes her cuffs. The door clangs shut. Lena is trembling, her breath coming in rough gasps, her vision spotting. Panic is overtaking her. The evidence spins in her mind, concrete, nearly indisputable. Her guilt is all but carved in stone. She presses her eyes with the heels of her hands. She feels like vomiting. She can see the headlines. 

_ Another Criminal Luthor Behind Bars _

_ L Corp Crumbles Under Luthor Crime Spree _

_ Three For Three: The Third and Final Luthor Brought to Justice _

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her nails dig into her scalp. It was only a matter of time, she tells herself. There was too much bad Luthor karma to ever survive unscathed. She is paying for the sins of her name now. She might as well be guilty. No one will ever be the wiser. No one will ever care to know the truth. 

But I’m innocent, cries something small inside her. I’m innocent. I’m innocent. I’m innocent. 

No one hears her. No one cares.

 

* * *

 

Day thirteen feels like one hundred. The murmurs when she passes have grown into open taunts, sneers, threats. 

You thought you were better than us, Luthor?

I heard Lex put out a hit on you. Too bad it didn’t stick.

I knew there was no such thing as a good Luthor. 

She ignores it. Or she tries to. She doesn’t make eye contact, ever. If there’s anything she’s learned from being a Luthor, it’s that violent criminals are like animals - meet their eyes and you’ll be meeting their open aggression next. The guards are no better. They watch her with scorn and distaste clear on their features. Lena isn’t surprised. There’s certainly no love lost between law enforcement and the Luthors.

Not everyone wants to be an enemy, though. Some of the women have sidled up to her, commenting casually that Lex is a bastard, that what he did was pretty fucked up even by a criminal’s standards, that the inmates who hate Lena are basically Lex’s personal fanclub and she should just ignore them. It’s comforting, sort of, but Lena doesn’t make any connections. She won’t be here forever, she tells the part of herself that believes otherwise. She’ll make it out. She’s innocent. But she doesn’t protest when the women sit with her during meals.

Rec hour keeps her from losing her mind. Getting into the yard gives her a chance to stretch her legs, a chance to breathe air that doesn’t smell like dust and concrete. She ignores the razor wire that curls around the walls above her. She reads sometimes, finding an empty corner and getting lost in whatever ratty secondhand book was available from the library today. Sometimes she walks, on days when she feels the most like a caged animal. Sometimes she just sits, taking in the warmth, breathing, trying not to think too much, waiting to be free again. 

Today it’s raining and the yard is sparsely populated, most of the inmates opting for the drier indoors rather than getting wet during rec hour. Lena sits at an empty table, leaning back, her eyes closed. The rain is warm and soft as it hits her skin. The lack of people out makes her feel safe. There’s still a score of inmates milling about the courtyard, lifting weights, walking the walls, smoking and chatting, but nothing like the usual crowd. 

The safety is an illusion. 

Footsteps approach her and she opens her eyes. Four inmates face her, watching her darkly. They’ve hounded her before. They’re some of Lex’s prison fanclub. One of them kicks at her foot.

So I heard you killed a guy getting your mom out. That true?

Her heart blackens and she clenches her jaw, but she doesn’t answer. She stares through them at the wall across the yard.

I’m fuckin’ talking to you. 

She shoves her shoulder.

I said, is it true?

If it is, Lena says tightly. Do you really think it’s a good idea to be putting your hands on me?

A sneer, a baring of teeth.

You threatening me, Luthor?

The caged animal in her chest growls, warning. 

Not yet, she sneers back.

Clenching fists, squaring shoulders. Lena recognizes a fight growing. Her eyes dart to the guards standing near the door. They’re watching, but they haven’t moved. This place is uglier than Lena thought. 

Lex wants you to know, this changes nothing. 

Her heart clenches at the implication carried in his name. He’d found her. She shouldn’t be surprised; he’d nearly had her killed when she was outside the prison system. With his connections, now that she was here, they were all but cellmates. 

He knows this is some kind of pathetic attempt at restitution, but it won’t work. You’re still a traitor. You’ll never be a true Luthor.

Lena can’t help it. She laughs, scorn and rage in her throat. 

I hope to God he’s fucking right, she says. She looks up at them, meeting their eyes, her hands curling. 

Are you finished?

The inmate grins. Almost, she says. 

She moves fast, grabbing Lena by the collar, hauling her forward, planting her knee firmly in her solar plexus. Lena is on her knees, wheezing, her breath gone and nowhere to be found. A fist to her face and she’s on the wet ground, blood throbbing in her ears. She blinks, and coughs. She tastes rust. She sees red. 

She catches the foot coming down at her, using the momentum to plant it over her own shoulder. She punches up, catching the inmate between the legs. She doubles over. Lena kicks like a horse at the nearest inmate, planting her foot against her knee, snapping it sideways. She does down screaming, cursing. 

Lena is rolling over, standing, backing up, her fists cocked because she’s a Luthor and of course she learned to defend herself since her childhood. She’d taken classes, even, because one too many men at the bar thought she owed them something and she had to know how to put them back in their place. She’s furious. The animal in her chest screams.

Another inmate comes swinging. She ducks it and barrels forward, grabbing her around the waist, driving them both into the ground. Then she’s straddling her, nearly blind with rage, adrenaline making her savage. She’d pounding her fists into her face, hitting whatever’s closest. The inmate is writhing, shielding herself. Lena is beyond caring, beyond control. She controlled so much in her life, ignored how easy it would be to utilize her power for corruption, for cruelty. She built something beautiful on the back of control and it was taken from her in an instant, unfairly, and no one would ever fucking know that she wasn’t responsible. Her fists are aching. She keeps swinging. 

Arms lock around her neck, dragging her backward. She’s thrown to the ground, kicked with a steel-toe boot. The guards have finally taken action. She’s beaten with a baton, her body clubbed mercilessly. Spikes of pain rip through her bones where the baton falls. She curls up, defenseless, shielding her head and neck with her arms. The pain makes her writhe. She tries not to yelp but it’s useless. She’s a dog, whipped, beaten.

Then she’s stiff and the pain isn’t sharp anymore, it’s billowing, roaring, clouding her blood and muscles, and she screams without meaning to. She hears the crackle of electricity running from the taser down the wires to her body. She spasms, her jaw locking. She wants to beg, but no sound comes out. Then it stops, the surging stops, but the pain lingers, making her muscles twitch. 

She’s dragged to her feet, propped up between two guards. She sees one of the inmates still holding her leg. It lays at a crazy angle. One of the guards radios for medical help. They take Lena inside. She stumbles, trying to walk, but they’re too fast, her legs aren’t responding well. They take her down a hall she’s never seen, a hall hidden behind a door that buzzes harshly before it opens. They throw her into a cell. One bed, a commode in the corner, and that’s all. The door slams shut behind her. 

She drags herself onto the bed. It reeks of urine. Her body aches all over. She feels the ghosts of electric shocks pulsing through her muscles. She doesn’t know how much time has passed before the pain subsides. She can only lay on her right side. The left side of her face feels tender, bruised. She knows she looks like hell. She feels even worse. 

She cries for the first time that night, after the pain has gone and the lights have been turned off. She cries, mourning her freedom, drowning in loneliness, swallowed in despair that tells her no one is coming to save her. Who would ever want to save a Luthor?

She sleeps when her pillow is wet with tears and her ravaged body takes unconsciousness as the only escape from the pain.

 

* * *

 

The days are counted in meals that come through the slot on her door and the scabs that grow slowly across her knuckles. The nights are long, endless stretches of darkness. Sometimes she sleeps, her dreams cut through with batons and tasers, ended abruptly in a shock of pain when she accidentally rolls to her left side. Mostly she lays awake, listening to the howling of the other inmates losing their minds in their solitude. She doesn’t know what to cling to. She feels insanity gnawing at her mind, growing in the hours and hours and hours of silence, of nothingness. 

You’ll be alone forever.

You’ll die down here.

And no one, no one, no one will miss you. 

The window on her door slams open and she jumps at the noise.

Back of the cell, inmate. Hands against the wall where I can see them. 

She obeys, her heart throbbing. The door opens, hands pat her down roughly, force her jaw open. She yelps as her bruise is jarred. The guard ignores her, shining a light into her mouth, checking for contraband. He cuffs her hands behind her back. 

Someone important wants to see you.

She’s shaken, confused. A second guard takes her other arm. They lead her back down the hall, through the locked door, into the common area, past the area where inmates talk on the phone with loved ones behind the glass wall, to the visitor rooms. She’s taken inside, chained to the table and the chair. The guard takes his place in the corner of the room. He radios out.

She can come in now. 

The door opens and Kara Danvers steps into the room. Lena reels, feel the shock make her face go slack. Of all the people she was expecting, Kara Danvers was not one of them. Kara sees her and the look on her face goes from controlled and pleasant to horrified. She sits hastily, leaning forward, her hand sliding toward Lena’s but stopping just short as she seems to remember the instructions the guards gave her about protocol.

Lena, she says, and she sounds broken. What happened to you?

Lena hesitates, shaking her head. She hadn’t seen her face since the yard. She must look like hell. 

I got in a fight, is all she can manage. She looks at Kara, still stunned, confused.

How are you here? They said someone important...someone who could pull some strings. How…?

Kara lifts her hand.

I had Supergirl call in a favor. 

Supergirl. Lena’s head is spinning. 

But why?

She told me what happened, Kara says. That you saved the aliens from your own mother. It doesn’t make sense to either of us that you’d turn around and free her after risking so much to put her behind bars. 

Lena stares at her. Kara’s blue eyes are sincere. She’s not mocking Lena, she’s not pulling Lena’s thoughts from deep inside her brain and reading them off to spin a false tale of her innocence. She’s serious. 

I believe you’re innocent, she says. 

Lena’s face is crumpling. She feels her bruise ache but she doesn’t heed it. Kara goes blurry.

You do? She hears her voice cracking.

Kara looks worried, sad, and she takes Lena’s hand without thinking, squeezing it softly.

Of course I do, Lena. Of course I do.

No touching, the guard snaps. 

Lena pulls her hand back, thinking of tasers, of batons. She can’t cover her face but she wishes she could. She bends over, tears dropping onto the table, onto her hands. Her bruised ribs ache as her breaths come in hard, shaking gasps. It’s like her heart has burst open and flooded her body with relief. 

Lena, Kara says. Her voice is aching. It’s going to be alright. I promise. 

Lena looks up at Kara. There’s belief in her eyes. There’s genuine hope. But Lena’s demons are swarming and swallowing her relief, blocking out the sunlight. 

No one will believe you. I’m a Luthor, Kara. 

I don’t care, Kara says firmly. You’re my friend. And you’re a friend to Supergirl and every alien in National City. You have people fighting for you out there.

The concept that anyone besides a well-paid lawyer would be working so hard to keep her name clear sound ridiculous, unrealistic, but she clings to it anyway, to the honesty in Kara’s voice, the fervor in her eyes. 

Kara leans forward, keeping Lena’s gaze. 

We are fighting for you, Lena Luthor, she says. Supergirl is in touch with your lawyer and she’s been making statements about your innocence to the press. And I...well I can’t do much, but I’m doing my best to make sure Catco Mag stays on narrative with your case and doesn’t give in to assumptions and lies.

Lena takes a deep, shuddering breath. She closes her eyes, trying to regain her composure. 

Thank you, Kara, she says slowly. I...I thought I was alone. 

Never, Kara says fervently. She looks down at Lena’s hands and seems to make a decision. She takes Lena’s hand between both of hers.

You will never be alone as long as I have something to say about it. Okay?

No touching, the guard says. 

Kara seems to ignore him for a few extended moments. She looks into Lena’s eyes, her thumb running across her fingers. Lena feels safe for a moment. This time it’s real. 

Then Kara lets go, sliding her hands away slowly. Lena aches a little at the loss, but she knows better than to do anything about it. 

Kara glances at her watch and her brow furrows.

I’m sorry, Lena. I have to go. 

Lena’s heart contracts a little. She thinks of her cell in solitary, of the howling in the darkness, the hours of nothing but demons and loneliness. She can’t force a smile, but she nods.

It’s alright. 

We’ll take care of you, Kara promises as she stands. Don’t forget that, okay?

Kara looks at the guard.

Let the warden know that I’m informing Supergirl that Lena Luthor is well-cared for, outside of solitary confinement, and that she’s been seen to by medical personnel for her injuries. Also, if she hears of any other harm coming to her, she’ll have to pay the warden a personal visit. Is that clear?

The guard is sullen, but he nods. Kara gives Lena another look, her eyes warm, and a small wave with her fingers. Then she’s gone. 

Lena is taken back to her original cell. A doctor sees her later that day and he writes her a prescription for pain medication. The walls don’t seem so threatening. She can breathe again. The animal in her chest is still. For the first time in what seems like forever, Lena sleeps through the night. 


End file.
